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A high-pitched whine and a muffled thud registered in Quinn’s brain as a sharp pain jabbed at her thigh. She looked down to see a hole in her jeans. “What the—?”
“Sniper!” Anneliese shouted and leaped to Gabriel’s exposed side, shoving him toward the limousine, where Vincent held the door open. Vincent hurled himself toward them, putting the breadth of his big body on the other side of Quinn. “Get in the car!” he shouted, both shielding them and using his weight to hustle them to the open car door.
But Gabriel was taller than Anneliese.
“Duck!” Quinn put her hand on the back of his head and pushed it lower while she tried to help propel him into the relative safety of the limo.
Another muffled thud kicked up a spray of chips from the sidewalk. And then Gabriel dived onto the floor of the car, pulling his legs in behind him. A firm hand pushed Quinn in on top of him before Anneliese rolled in on top of both of them. The door slammed shut.
“Don’t move,” Anneliese said, her body sprawled over Gabriel and part of Quinn.
The driver’s door opened and closed, and the limousine rocketed into motion, tires squealing.
“Is everyone all right?” Anneliese asked.
“Gabriel! Are you okay?” Quinn scooted around on the floor so she could see his face where it was pressed into the carpeting. “Did you get hit?”
Terror and fury ricocheted around in her chest. Someone just tried to kill Gabriel.
“No, I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight. “But what about you? You said something right before Anneliese yelled.”
Quinn’s leg was throbbing, but she didn’t want to upset him further. “I’m good.”
“Anneliese? Vincent?” Gabriel asked. “No injuries?”
“Untouched,” Anneliese said. “Thank you.”
“Same, sir,” Vincent said. “Hang on.”
Vincent took a corner at high speed, rolling them all against one another. As Gabriel disentangled himself from her, he brushed her injured leg. She hissed in a breath at the jab of pain.
“What is it, cariño mío?” Concern threaded his voice.
“Just a little graze. No big deal.” It burned like hell, but she could move her leg, so it couldn’t be too bad.
“I wish to examine it,” Gabriel said, starting to lever himself up with his elbow.
“No! Someone could still be aiming for you.” Quinn grabbed his head to yank it back down to the carpet. She didn’t give a shit if he was a duke or not. He wasn’t going to die because she had a cut on her leg.
“Quinn, let go of me now.” Gabriel’s voice was a whipcrack of command.
She didn’t release her hold. “Anneliese? Is it okay for him to sit up?”
“Vincent, are we clear of the scene?” Anneliese called.
“Affirmative,” the driver said.
“Please remain on the floor, though.” Anneliese pushed herself up off Gabriel without visible effort and crouched low on the back seat, a Glock in her hand as her gaze scanned across the car windows.
Quinn slid her hand away from his head, cupping his cheek briefly in a wordless apology.
Gabriel hoisted himself up on one elbow, swaying as the limo bounced and swerved through the city streets. His eyes blazed with fury and anxiety. “Let me see.”
Quinn rolled onto her side so the injured leg was visible. Looking down, she could see a dark stain around the hole in the denim. Brighter red was visible through the rip.
Gabriel cursed before he gently moved the fabric around so he could examine the wound. “We need to get Quinn to a doctor,” he barked.
“No, seriously, it’s just a cut,” Quinn said.
